Bits and pieces

Tonight I am leaving with my parents for that part of the world often called as God's own country which is Kerala . I cannot describe my feelings exactly but can only say that I am excited. We are going to attend the wedding of my eldest brother Wadukakka and a new member named Mukhlisa (an Arabic word meaning sincere) is going to join our family. We are awaiting her arrival eagerly. The poor fellows had to wait for one year after their engagement mainly due to my father's work schedule and partly owing to my school vacation timings. I miss my Wadukakka too much. He is now doing his PG course in medicine in Chandigarh in India. I have not seen him for the last two years. My parents and other relatives say that I resemble him . I have kept some of my drawings to show them to him. It is from him that I got the inspiration to draw. My father had told me that Wadukakka had won many prizes in drawing, painting, cartoon and essay writing while he was studying in Doha. I have not won any prizes so far but there is still time ahead . As per his instructions, I am now attending drawing classes and  have started participating in drawing competitions as well.

Recently we shifted to a new house in Doha which is more spacious than the one we were living in. It has been painted in light green as per my request. Those who call at our house say it looks nice. I got the idea of light green colour from a cartoon I had watched. My beloved mom works hard to keep the house neat and tidy. Due to her constant care and attention, the white marble floor always shines. She does not want to see any dark spot on the floor, however tiny they are. She scolds my father and Munnukakka when they soil the floor, drops their clothes here and there , forget to switch off the light while going out .Some times they even do not remember to lock the door when  they go for work in the morning when my mom will be sleeping. She  sometimes wakes up from her sleep as if she had a dream to find that the door is not locked . Unfortunately both my dad and elder brother are careless in such matters.

My mom cooks very delicious meals. She enjoys everything she is doing whether it be cleaning or cooking. The curries she prepares are so tasty. In the kitchen she has to prepare three types of dishes. I like roasted beef with some sauce in it whereas my elder brother Munnukakka prefers beef roasted dry. In addition, she has to prepare low fat dishes for my father. My father likes chicken curry. He jokes saying that it is because his family name "Kozhippurath" is a Malayalm word that literally means " on chicken's back". He says that there  are several other funny family names in North Kerala which if translated to other languages will create laughter among the listeners.

My father told me how happy he was when my class teacher during the last parent- teacher meeting told him that I was perfect every respect . He added that the only negative aspect my teacher pointed out was that I was shy and that he then had told her that he and his children were also shy and that it might be a genetic problem.

By the youngest son

Indigestible

The exam in class- VI in the upper primary school in our village in India was in progress supervised by one of our teachers. While answering the question paper , I noticed that a student sitting in front of me was cheating. I stood up spontaneously and directed the attention of the supervisor to what the cheating student was doing. The teacher stared at me in anger and shouted " Shut your mouth , it is none of your business." You can imagine why that scene is still live in my memory and why I remember the face of that teacher though 47 years have elapsed since it occurred .

I was attending the marriage of one of my relatives at the age of around 14 years or so . When I noticed bride's father shouting at a feeble man among the invitees , I went there to find out what was happening. The poor fellow had apparently gone there hoping that they would give him something to satiate his hunger as the signs of starvation were evident on his face. Instead of realizing the helplessness of that person and giving him something to eat, or at least dealing with him politely, my relative had no scruples to drive that poor fellow out of the function. I still remember the pale face of that helpless person while he was leaving the courtyard of the house where the function was conducted and the derisive laughter of the bride's father and lament on being compelled to be a passive spectator on such occasions.

Once one of my close relatives hired a carpenter to make table on contract basis. In those days carpenters were casual workers When the work was over, both my relative and the carpenter realized the amount of money agreed upon between them was disproportionate with magnitude of the time and energy spent by the latter and that he was entitled to some  more money in appreciation of the work carried out . But when my relative gave the carpenter exactly the contracted amount of money , I saw him imploring my relative to have mercy on him. Though my relative had not violated the terms of the contract and I knew that he was a person experiencing financial stringency, I do not know why I still feel that my relative had not treated the carpenter fairly.

The lady whom I saw searching for food particles in a garbage can in a city like London, the people sleeping inside  tunnels after laying a sheet before them prompting the passers by to give them some change in some European cities and the young men whom I saw in the oil rich Saudi Arabia that too near the holy Kaaba bringing the devotees the holy water of zamzam and laying carpets for prayers before them with an imploring look , are some other matters I sill find it hard to digest.

I will spare no efforts to preserve those memories related to incidents that occurred at a very early stage of my life as they continue serve as a deterrent and safety valve in my life. I am glad that my four children including the youngest one have learned to share the grievances of their fellow beings. Some of my close friends in India remind me that even after working 34 years in Qatar, I do not have a permanent source of income when I become physically incapable to work. Once when a broker approached me to buy a property , my children stopped me saying that God had given us more than what we deserved and wondered what else I needed.They  were indeed right, are there any other assets more precious than being blessed with such children?

By the Father

Prick of the conscience

Here in Doha the summer with hot and humid weather in its train is departing and the winter is scheduled to arrive at any time. The other day when  I woke up at around 3 a.m., I thought I would to go for a morning walk though it was too early. When I began to wear my so called track suite, my better-half said “ It is still dark honey , where are you heading?”. “ It is OK my darling let me try, don’t worry, be happy”, I assured her and walked away wishing her sweet dreams.

The sky was cloudless though there were slight showers accompanied by thunderbolts the other night , a very rare phenomenon in a country like Qatar. A young man was crossing the road with a heavy load of newspapers and magazines on his bicycle . I have very often wondered about the safety of these poor workers on bicycles in the midst traffic congestion and crazy drivers especially since the same newspapers had carried recently the story of their Indian proof reader, hit and killed by a hasty driver while  he was crossing the road.

In Doha corniche one can walk comfortably and enjoy the incredible colour of the bay in the day. When I began to walk, the blowing breeze unearthed a series of events that were buried deep in my memory. It seemed to me that they were waiting in a row to be released from their mandatory internment. ; the very old ship that I boarded in June 1976 from Bombay to Doha , the nausea that the smell of sea caused in me ,the seagulls that swallowed small fishes, the long fish that struggled on the hook of one of the crew engaged in sea angling, the awe that boundless sea invoked in me, the happiness that dolphins and other large fishes jumping up in the air gave me, the man whom I saw jailed in a narrow room in the ship for trying to board the ship illegally, the ship’s stopover in Dubai port after six days , the man whom I saw dancing in joy in a boat in Dubai port , the ship’s arrival after seven days in Doha , some of my evenings in this seacoast to enjoy one of the region’s superb sunsets, the reveries that such a sight sparked in me, the hope that the air crafts departing from Doha International airport gave me and the last but not the least the letter I wrote to my close friend Abdul Latheef living in India to the effect that the blue sky was far away quoting from a  melodious Malayalam song sung by Yesudas" Akale..... Neelaakashsam" (blue sky is so remote  )in the sense I had miles to go.

While returning home I stopped for while to look at the cat lying dead on the road side. I was apparent it was  hit by a driver a few minutes ago . The dead cat still disturbs my mind . One can understand if  it is a rare phenomenon on the streets of Doha.Cats were imported into Qatar in eighties to control rats.  Now a days rats are seldom seen .  Drivers do not stop their vehicles when they see a cat crossing the road. Though I try to console my conscience on the pretext that we are living in an age in which human beings do not care even for their fellow being’s life, needless to say about animal lives, my conscience commands me to refrain from rationalizing such offenders..

By the Father

A visit I cannot forget

My siblings argue that I am the luckiest among them for various reasons, the first and foremost , they say, is my visit to London .It is true that  I visited   London in the company of my parents in August , 2007. It so happened that my father's boss once and only once   allowed him to take his family with him when he sent him abroad. My siblings were not living in Doha at that time. that is all




Me and my beloved Mom before Buckingham Palace

  



Skating in Hydepark

Though my dad took us to  tourist attractions like Buckingham Palace, London Isle, Trafalgar Squire etc, now only I am learning their historical importance as I was then only 9 years old. The first day when we went out for a morning walk in Hyde Park, I saw people jogging, cycling and children skating there . I told  my parents to buy me  a Roller Skate but they as usual began to put forth lame excuses such as  I would fall down and sustain injuries, it is too costly for us to by in London, I could have it in Doha and so on so forth .Then I resorted to the most popular and efficacious weapon widely used by children like me around the world viz. crying. Then my father  surrendered unconditionally. When I started skating he realized that every thing was under control.

The Serpentine Lake in the Hyde Park hosts a number of birds that nest in a man made small island in the middle of it  with congenial surroundings for them  to nest and nourish. I could recognize only ducks and swans among them besides the pigeons visiting them to share their joy while eating food grains and dry bread pieces given to them by tourists. While we were walking along the Serpentine Lake, some of these birds were swimming in the lake and  others were mingling with the visitors feeding them on the bank of the lake . It was for the first time that I was seeing some of those birds so closely. When my mom tried to feed them these brids  ran to her to snatch the bread pieces from her  , tens of pigeons and sparrows rushed to her to grab food grains from her hand and some of them even sat on her shoulders for a while competing with other birds to take what she gave them. It was indeed a splendid scene.

The only bird I have seen so closely in India was parrots carried in cages by the so called fortune tellers and soothsayers . They roam in the rural areas to exploit the illiterate and some times even  educated villagers. Some cards are laid before these people and the door of the cage is open to let parrot go out and take one of the cards from which they claim that they can tell the future of the person concerned . The parrot will not fly away since it does not know that there is  a world out side other than its cage to which it returns soon after its mission  is over.

Serpentine Lake

My dad tells me that he does not like to see birds in cages , that he still remembers the opening verses a Malayalam poem he had learned in upper primary classes “ Vittayakkuka Koottilninnenne nhanottuvaanil parannu nadakkatte( please free me from the cage, let me fly freely in the air) by Naalaappattu Baalamaniyamma, the mother of the celebrated writer Kamala Surayya ( Madhavikkutty) and  that he loves to watch flocks of birds flying high up in the sky ..

It seemed to me that London was indeed a land of flowers, parks and gardens. Wherever we turn there were beautiful flowers to welcome us . There were shallow ponds in these gardens where we saw yellow, red and black fishes swimming comfortably as there was nobody to catch or harm them, every one  was instead  feeding them . Since the water in some of these ponds were crystal clear, we could see even their bottom .

In the Hyde park there are large trees with lush green leaves.The trees and plants in London are well protected  in London. One can see rabbits andsquirrels running near the bushes  in the park . When I tried to feed a squirrel, it ran to me and took the bread piece from my hand. Though I tried to pat it , it soon ran away but I am glad I was able at least to feed it

 The neatness of the streets of London, the electronic card we had used to open the hotel room, the punctuality of hotel room service, the electronic road map in the car we travelled showing us where we were  and  the cartoon channel they had specially  turned for me  were the other things that had impressed me.

By the Youngest Son

City of lakes , Land of the Loyals

Udaipur, popular in the world tourism  as the Land of lakes and Venice of the east ,  is the abode of the Rajputs , the brave warriors of India . It is named after Raja Udai Singh and built up by Raja Rana Pratap. Both of them fought their whole life against the Mughal empire.A small group against a large army has always been written in the annals  of history in golden letters .History is not  always written by the winners .



Statue of Maha Rana Pratap on his chetak



Arriving at Udaipur Airport we were welcomed by a statue of Raja Maharana Pratap on his famous horse Chetak .The climate was cool and pleasant compared to Chandigarh. We were looking for options to reach the Gayathri Medical College where we had to attend a conference. The prepaid service was too costly and hence we decided to hire a " Vikram", a larger version of autorickshaw. A  slow moving  vehicle, it is  a major contributor to the noise and air pollution in the city .This is,  however, a common man's vehicle and  should in no way be questioned .We didn't get Vikram , but  hired a mini Tempo pet named "Chupa Rustham"(silent lover).



The chupa Rustham(the silent lover)

Udaipur is a pleasant place with many mountains and lustrous  lakes.Contrary to my belief that desert dominates Rajasthan , Udaipur is   full of granaries.The atmosphere was cool    and there was an   intermittent  refreshing drizzle the whole day.It was a great relief for us hailing from the hot and humid climate of Chandigarh.We had arrived a day earlier and had ample time to visit the city.

We visited the City palace of the Kings of Mewar, the second largest palace of India after the Fort of Tippu Sultan at Mysore . The palace has  a splendid display of the history of the Mewar . I would like to share some incidents in the history which took to  my heart .

Maharana Udai Singh , the founder of Udaipur was a baby when his uncle Vikramadithya Singh was assassinated .In those days  it was  a command practice among   rulers   to get rid of   any potential threat to their throne , Banbir therefore decided to remove   young Udai Singh too . But Udai's nurse Panna Dhai decided to sacrifice her own son to save Udai from his uncle Banbir by taking  him to Kumbhalgarh. Knowing that her own child had no chance to live  , she  left her child in Uday's cradle to be killed instead of  her master, the gravest ordeal   a mother can undergo. Her name will be remembered  as long as Udaipur  exists in the world map.

Battle of Haldigatti

 Maha Rana Prathap was the only King of Mewar who really  staged    Resistance to  the mighty Mughal Empire . His  famous battle of Halidigatii is a shining stone in the history of struggle against oppression. During the battle his famous steed Chetak is reported  to have jumped over the elephant of the Mughal general Mann Singh. Maha Rana Pratap 's lance throw just missed Mann Singh by a whisker . But Chetak was wounded on his leg by the tusk of one of the elephants He fell in the battlefield with his master. Seeing this the Mughal army  advanced  towards  their enemy leader . But Chetak stood up and escaped limping from the battle field, jumping across the 22 ft Gomthi river on his way taking his master to safety . The loyalty of the animal  moved even  the heart of Shakti Singh, brother of Maha Rana Pratap who had  allied with the Mughal Emperor . Chetak took his final breath there .This incident is famous in Rajasthani folklore, a song “O Neele Ghode re Aswar” (O Rider of the Blue Horse) commemorates  it. The loyalty of an animal surpassing even a brothers love .



view of udaipur from the City palace



Jhala man Singh , a soldier in Raja Rana Pratap's army exhibited extraordinary valour, bravery and sacrifice . Seeing that his King was wounded in the battle he wore the crown and royal emblem of Raja Rana pratap to confuse  the Mughal army into thinking he was the king, an ancient version of camouflage  He took the entire attack of the Mughal army on himself ultimately sacrificed  his life in the battle .In Present day Udaipur, the descendants of Jhala still carry the emblem of Mewar as their coat of arms as conferred upon them by Maharana Pratap.



If you happen to go through newspapers  and watch visual media  your eyes would be weary of  seeing news of human betrayal, . husband cheating his wife , children assaulting   their parents for money , servants stealing the property of their masters , people deceiving their own life by  committing suicide , neighbour feuds , even pet animals attacking their masters in a state of madness . Do we hear such stories of loyalty and sacrifice now a days  ? Do our children know what it means to be a real human being  .



Me with my friends at the city palace



A Picnic, fun or pain

While living in India I had requested my parents to take me to Vega land or Dream World several times and I don’t know why my requests were never granted . They might have their own excuses or justifications to put forth before their second Qatar born child. What ever it may be I did not wreck my brain brooding over its pros and cons.

Here in Doha where I was born in 1998 the situation is entirely different. Being the youngest child of my parents I am lucky to enjoy their love and affection more than my siblings. My father had told me  how my two brothers, Wadukakka and Munnukakka, waited eagerly for my arrival when my mom was expecting me, how each of them argued that I resembled him, how Munnukakka cried when one of my father’s friends said that I resembled Wadukakka and how I used to sleep beside my sister asking her to tell me stories of elephants . I know how much  my parents love me.  I do miss my only sister and  Wadukka who now live in India. My dad does not forget to hug me and  pat on my head almost every day and even asks me to sit on his lap when my mom reminds him that I am no longer a child but a grown up boy.

Therefore when  my class teacher announced once  that a trip was being organized to visit jungle Zone I knew that my request to join my class mates would be welcomed and supported by my parents. I have never been to such an amusement park. But it seemed to me that the time chosen was inappropriate as I was suffering from severe tooth ache. It was not a tooth ache in the real sense of the term as the cause was that one of my teeth was ready to give way to a new one eager to join my jaws. I have very often wondered why people scream when are riding on roller coasters and other rides. When I began to ride I soon realized why they do so. First I played a car racing game. There was a lot of fun in it that I forgot about my tooth. When I came out, my tooth ache  was back again . Then I went to the roller coaster. . But I didn’t scream but felt dizzy. On such occasions I clutched the handles. There was one part where monsters and spiders were shown to scare us. But they were not at all scary but were instead boring. But the fun part was when the track turned around a bit and then it seemed to me that I was going to fall down but the train was static and did not move during this process.

I had a fun time. I even played on a ride in which the carts  we sat in were lifted up high and suddenly brought down at a very high speed. This process was repeated for some time. I was terrified especially since I was afraid of heights. After that my tooth pain worsened. When I returned to school everyone was talking about the trip and me still suffering from somewhat unbearable tooth ache. So I don’t know whether it was a painful or pleasing experience.

By the Youngest Son.

Faithful friends

A dog is often described as man's best friend. In sixties when I was schooling, my father had a pet dog. He was white in colour, agile and alert. Until its death, it did not bite or harm human beings physically. In those days dogs were not kept in kennels but were let loose unless and until they were ferocious. Our dog roamed in our village and thus became popular among the villagers. The children preferred to call him valiyatharayile moothaappa or elder uncle of valiyatharayil (our house name). I liked to compare his roaming to an inspection tour to maintain law and order in the village . But unfortunately he had some times stolen baskets of fresh fish and bowls of cooked rice from the houses of poor fishermen living in huts. When such people complained to my dad. I had seen him scolding his dog and the latter lying down in a prostrating posture before his master wagging its tale as if to apologize for his mistake.

One day a rabbit belonging to an affluent family living in the vicinity of our house was found dead beside its cage. The owner alleged that it was killed by our dog after breaking its cage. I don’t remember how my dad had dealt with their complaint. As far as I was concerned , the incident symbolized an act of heroism performed by our dog for breaking a cage supposed to be invincible . Unfortunately another rabbit of the same person was killed after a couple of days. This time they complained to the village officer. After tough negotiations, my dad had to agree ultimately to their demand to shoot and kill the dog which was of course something unbearable for us especially for my dad. They engaged a person possessing a gun for this mission . He was a bird hunter by profession. Since the dog was very strong and fast, they knew it could not be shot on sight. My dad was therefore even asked to chain his dog. One can imagine my father's dilemma on such an occasion.

I still remember how my dad had called his dog on that inauspicious day and how the latter had bowed his head to be chained in strict obedience though he had never been chained before. I looked at the person who was going to kill my dog. Though he was a thin man in his sixties wearing spectacles and looking tired, he was an executioner in my eyes. My dad tied the other end of the chain to a coconut tree in the adjacent plot of land and people gathered around the tree to witness the event. I became restless and my pulse rate increased. I ran away from our home and stood at a distance whereby I would hear or see nothing. After a few minutes I heard people booing and hissing. When I returned to our house my father told me that as soon as the hunter tried to aim his gun at the dog, it jumped, broke the chain and ran away sparking laughter among the onlookers. We thought that our dog would never return to our house but it did return next night but was tired and scared .

When they came again accompanied by the shooter after one or two days, the dog was sleeping under the jack fruit close to our house. After seeking permission from my father, the man shot at our dog. It screamed in pain and fled without allowing the person to shoot him once gain. We thought that the dog would die while running away and we would never see him again but it was a pleasant surprise to us when he returned home after one or two days limping as he was shot on one of his forelegs. I can still see the wound on his leg in my mind. There were no other wounds or fractures on his body.

Though they approached my dad once again to shoot his dog, the latter never allowed them to touch him telling them it was enough. His wounds soon healed, he resumed its roaming in our village and lived with us a few more years until he died of geriatric ailments.

In 1994 when I was living in Doha as a bachelor, a female cat used to frequent my room. It was a beautiful and healthy cat yellow in colour with black stripes on its body. She began to push her head or rub her body against my leg to show its affection and appreciation and I enjoyed her innocence. Sometimes I inadvertently stepped on its body but what struck me was that it only screamed in pain but never growled or reacted violently as other cats do. Whenever I went to mosque to pray, she used to accompany me up to the mosque and wait until I finish my prayer. If the door of my room was closed when she came and she knew I was in the room she would jump and open the door by pushing its handle. The photo of the cat opening the door in this way is still in our old album. It soon gave birth to five beautiful kittens. After a few months , it disappeared all on a sudden . Its fate might not be different from several cats being hit and crushed by cars on the streets of Doha.

I remember a pious and ascetic Muslim scholar, Alwaye Musliyar by name, who lived in a mosque in the city of Chavakkad whose hobby was feeding cats. He seldom spoke to people. I had watched tens of cats running to him and snatching food from his hand while he fed them smiling and some times speaking to them.

By the father